Chapter 4 The Chase
Killian POV
I pulled her along behind me, my hand locked around her wrist.
She fought every step.
Twisting. Digging her heels into the ground. Trying to wrench free whenever my grip shifted even the slightest amount.
She was stronger than most women I’d known.
About five feet seven, athletically built with enough muscle to tell me she’d spent her life working rather than lounging in some noble villa. There was nothing delicate about her. Every movement was deliberate, every struggle calculated instead of frantic.
But against me…
She had little chance.
I stood a full six foot five, broad enough that my shadow swallowed hers when we walked. Years of war had carved strength into every part of me. I’d wrestled men larger than bears, fought armored Romans in shield walls, and survived battles that should have killed me twice over.
Keeping hold of one determined Roman woman wasn’t difficult.
What surprised me was how much effort she was willing to spend trying.
As we stepped out into the street, an eerie silence settled over us.
The city should have been alive with screams.
Instead, abandoned homes lined both sides of the road. Doors swung lazily opening in the breeze. Curtains fluttered from open windows. Household belongings lay scattered where families had dropped them in desperate haste.
Rome hadn’t withdrawn with dignity.
They had fled.
The realization soured my mood.
The armies had abandoned these people and left them to chaos and terror.
They had abandoned her.
Why was she the only one left here, though? She was obviously strong enough to go hide where the other citizens had fled to.
She continued tugging against my grip.
I glanced sideways.
Her chin was lifted defiantly despite the circumstances, emerald eyes fixed somewhere ahead instead of on me. She refused to acknowledge me even as I dragged her through the empty streets.
Stubborn woman.
My men would have admired that spirit.
Which was exactly why I couldn’t simply leave her among them.
They were honorable warriors, but they were still men. We’d been marching for nearly four months, far from our wives and sweethearts. The few women traveling with our war band were family—wives, sisters, healers—protected by every warrior around them.
This Roman had no such protection.
Except me.
I didn’t fully understand why I’d claimed that responsibility.
Perhaps because she’d stood her ground when everyone else had fled.
Perhaps because she’d fought like a warrior.
Or perhaps because when she’d looked me in the eye, she’d reminded me that courage came in many forms.
Whatever the reason…
I wasn’t about to let harm come to her.
Ahead, I spotted one of my most trusted generals directing several warriors.
“Godfirth.”
The older man turned immediately.
His beard had long since gone gray, but age had done nothing to diminish the power in his shoulders. He’d fought beside my father before I’d been old enough to carry a spear, and I’d trust him with my own life without hesitation.
I brought Alexandria to him.
“Take her,” I ordered. “Keep her safe.”
Godfirth raised one bushy eyebrow.
“I didn’t think we were taking prisoners.”
“This one we are.”
His eyes shifted between us.
There was curiosity there.
Questions.
But he was too disciplined to ask them.
“This one’s clever,” I continued. “Tie her hands if you must. Watch her closely.”
Godfirth nodded once.
“Aye.”
I stepped closer until she had no choice but to meet my eyes.
“Listen carefully.”
She glared.
“If you behave, Godfirth will treat you fairly.”
“If I don’t?”
“He has my permission to hog-tie you, sling you over his shoulder, and carry you like a sack of grain.”
“I’d like to see him try.”
A smile threatened the corner of my mouth.
“I imagine he would enjoy the challenge.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I would break his nose.”
Godfirth barked out a laugh.
“I like this one.”
“You won’t,” I said firmly.
Then my voice hardened.
“But hear me well. No one touches her. No one mistreats her. If anyone ignores that order, they’ll answer to me.”
Godfirth’s expression turned serious.
“They won’t.”
For the first time since meeting her, she looked at me with something other than anger.
Confusion.
Only for a heartbeat.
Then it vanished.
Godfirth took hold of her wrists with practiced care while I released them.
She immediately tested his grip.
Of course she did.
I shook my head.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
“I intend to make it impossible.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Leaving her there felt…strange.
I dismissed the feeling.
There were more pressing matters.
I turned and continued down the street toward the rest of my warriors.
⸻
I had gone perhaps fifty paces before instinct prickled across the back of my neck.
Not a sound.
Not a shout.
A feeling.
Years on the battlefield had taught me to recognize when something wasn’t right long before my mind understood why.
I stopped.
Turned.
Godfirth still stood where I’d left him.
But his posture was wrong.
Too wide.
Too still.
The posture of a man who’d just failed.
I was moving before he even spoke.
“She slipped away,” he called grimly.
A single surprised laugh escaped my chest.
“Clever girl.”
Godfirth scratched his beard.
“I’ve wrestled grown warriors who weren’t half so slippery.”
“I believe it.”
The old man looked offended.
“I nearly had her.”
“I know.”
I started running.
“And Chief?”
I glanced back.
“She’s heading east!”
“I’ll find her.”
That much, I never doubted.
⸻
She was fast.
Very fast.
Not merely quick on her feet.
She knew how to move.
She stayed close to walls, using abandoned carts and broken wagons for cover. Every time I caught sight of her dark hair, she’d disappear around another corner before I reached it.
She wasn’t fleeing blindly.
She was making decisions.
Choosing routes.
Watching behind her.
She’d looked over her shoulder just often enough to know exactly how far behind I was.
Good.
Very good.
If she’d been born among my people…
She might have made a fine scout.
I vaulted over a toppled cart without slowing.
Fresh footprints marked the dust ahead.
Light.
Quick.
She’d doubled back once, trying to throw me off.
An old trick.
It wouldn’t work.
A loose shutter still swayed from where she’d brushed against it moments earlier.
There.
I caught another glimpse of green fabric disappearing into a narrow alley.
I lengthened my stride.
She heard me coming.
She burst into a sprint.
⸻
She turned left.
My heart sank.
Dead end.
She realized it a heartbeat too late.
She stopped so abruptly that dust scattered around her boots.
Then she spun to face me.
Not with panic.
With determination.
Chest rising and falling from the run.
Loose strands of black hair clinging to her flushed face.
Those remarkable green eyes fixed on mine.
Calculating.
Looking for another opening.
“There you are,” I said, slowing to a walk. “I was beginning to think you’d escaped.”
She said nothing.
Only shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet.
Ready.
Every muscle in her body prepared to fight.
Gods…
She simply refused to surrender.
“I admire the effort,” I admitted.
“I wasn’t trying to impress you.”
“No. You were trying to leave.”
“Exactly.”
“Unfortunately…”
I spread my hands slightly.
“…you’ve run out of road.”
Her gaze flicked toward the high stone wall behind her.
Then back to me.
“So it would seem.”
⸻
She attacked first.
Fast enough that another man might never have seen it coming.
Her fist drove toward my ribs.
I caught her wrist.
She twisted immediately, using the movement to drive her elbow toward my jaw.
Better.
Much better.
I turned just enough for the strike to glance harmlessly across my beard.
She tried to hook my leg.
I stepped around it.
She attempted to slip past my shoulder.
I blocked her path.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Each movement flowed into the next with remarkable speed.
She wasn’t stronger.
She wasn’t larger.
But she adapted quickly, changing tactics every time one failed.
Most people repeated mistakes.
She learned from them.
Finally I caught both wrists.
She struggled once.
Twice.
I used her own momentum to guide her backward.
One more step.
Stone met her back with a dull thud.
My hands pinned her wrists above her head before she could break away.
Silence settled between us.
Both of us breathing harder now.
She looked directly into my eyes.
Not pleading.
Not frightened.
Simply refusing to yield.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” I said quietly.
Her lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile.
“Then let go.”
“So you can run?”
“So I can try again.”
I couldn’t help it.
I laughed.
A genuine laugh this time.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The honesty.”
She tilted her head.
“I’ve never claimed to be anything else.”
“No. You haven’t.”
She tested my grip again.
Carefully.
Feeling for weakness.
Always searching.
Always thinking.
“You don’t stop, do you?” I asked.
“I don’t like cages.”
“This isn’t a cage.”
“No?”
Her eyes moved meaningfully to my hands holding her in place.
“It certainly feels like one.”
Fair enough.
“You run again,” I said, “and next time I’ll have your hands tied before we leave the street.”
“Then perhaps…”
She met my gaze without blinking.
“…you shouldn’t have handed me to someone else.”
For just a moment, neither of us spoke.
She had escaped because I’d trusted another man instead of keeping watch myself.
She knew it.
I knew it.
It wasn’t an accusation.
It was an observation.
One that somehow felt more personal than it should have.
“You’re trouble,” I muttered.
A spark of satisfaction flickered across her face.
“I’ve been told.”
“I believe it.”
“So…”
She lifted one eyebrow.
“…are you going to let me go?”
“No.”
“Worth asking.”
“It was.”
Very slowly, I released one of her wrists.
Not because I trusted her.
Because I wanted to see what she’d do.
She didn’t strike.
Didn’t run.
She merely rubbed feeling back into her hand while continuing to watch me with the same guarded curiosity she’d worn since we’d met.
Interesting.
Perhaps she was learning something about me as well.
“Enough games,” I said at last.
“We’re going back.”
She sighed dramatically.
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“I imagine you were.”
“I’ll probably try to escape again.”
“I know.”
She smiled then.
Small.
Quick.
Gone almost before I was certain I’d seen it.
“Then this should be interesting.”
I gestured toward the street.
“After you.”
She started walking.
Not because she’d accepted defeat.
I could see it in the set of her shoulders.
She was already studying every alley, every doorway, every possible route.
Planning.
Waiting.
And despite every sensible instinct telling me otherwise…
I found myself looking forward to seeing what she’d try next.
